


The Bubonic Derek

by fotoshop_cutout



Series: Playing House [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-16
Updated: 2012-03-16
Packaged: 2017-11-02 01:03:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/363290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fotoshop_cutout/pseuds/fotoshop_cutout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For him this story started well after Derek become the Alpha, they all became a rather dysfunctional pack (if he could say so himself) and they learned that one set of Derek's grandparents were still alive and coming for a visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bubonic Derek

**Author's Note:**

> un-betaed. This was started off of [THIS](http://teenwolfkink.livejournal.com/3353.html?thread=1991961#t1991961) prompt over at teenwolfkink[@LiveJournal]. I don't know if I'll ever continue this, but if I do, it'll be fun.

For him this story started well after Derek become the Alpha, they all became a rather dysfunctional pack (if he could say so himself) and they learned that one set of Derek's grandparents were still alive and coming for a visit. For him, he was just disgruntled as Derek's red eyes flashed at him from the corner of his darkened room. He cursed loudly and flailed, attempting to get out of bed and put some more distance between them because damnit you don't sneak up on someone sleeping and do that to them, but he only ended up crashing to the floor with his blankets tangled all around him. When he finally extricated himself from the boa constrictor blankets and stood up, Derek was leaning back against the wall looking faintly amused and more than a little irritated. Stiles' eyebrows drew together and he opened his mouth to say something he was sure was going to be witty when Derek interrupted.

“Can you not even get out of bed without looking like a complete idiot?” Derek had his arms crossed as he balanced on one foot, his lower back against the wall and his eyes still red. Stiles thought about saying something, but just ducked to pick up the blanket and put it back on his bed. He glanced toward the door, the light from his Dad's room flashing through the hallway. A knock on his door and a, “Stiles, you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah Dad, I'm fine.” Stiles glanced between the door and where Derek was leaning against his wall with trepidation. While his Dad knew that Derek wasn't the mass murderer that everyone had made him out to be, he likely wouldn't be happy to find him in his son's room at—Stiles glanced at the clock on his nightstand—just after midnight on a school night. His Dad trudged away and Stiles didn't move or say anything until the light had gone off again and the his Dad's bedroom door had shut securely behind him. Then he went around the bed, acting like his indignant self. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

His hoarse whisper was met with a slightly disapproving look from the Alpha, like Stiles should _know_ why he was just casually hanging out and watching him sleep in the middle of the night. Derek spoke low, more of a grumble than a whisper really. “We need to talk.”

“Now?” Did he not get that it was the _middle of the night_? “I have school tomorrow, you know.”

Another disapproving look from Derek—what? Should he not go to school? He was beginning to get a little exasperated. Derek spoke in the same tone as before, “Yes now.”

“What is so important it can't wait another day, or week, or have you even _heard_ of texting? It's this thing that you do on your phone and it sends words to someone else. You should really try it sometime.”

“My Grandmother thinks we're together.” Derek isn't looking at him, isn't that interesting. Was he... was he _afraid_? Wait.

“ _What._ ”

Derek looked back up, studying Stiles' face. Stiles realized, belatedly, that he was a bit slack jawed and hurriedly closed his mouth, swallowing and crossing his arms over his bare chest like a barrier. The window was still open, a breeze rolled across his skin and he resisted the urge to shiver. Derek pushed himself off the wall and raised his eyebrows. “She seems really happy about it; I didn't have the heart to tell her no.”

Stiles tried not to gape. Really, he did. He rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath. “Of course not.”

Derek was busy fiddling with something on Stiles' desk. He didn't bother to look over at Stiles. Stiles, meanwhile, was trying to figure out just what this meant. Then his stomach dropped. “They're here for the rest of the week, aren't they?”

_Now_ Derek looked up, fixing whatever he'd been playing with and leaving it alone. He didn't bother to give any affirmation, Stiles knew he was right. Instead he leaned back against the wall again, hands in his pockets this time. “I need you to play along.”

Play...

...along?

Play along. Play _along_? No.

Wait.

A dastardly plan arose in his mind and a mischievous glint sparked in his eyes. Oh! Oh _yes_.

He shrugged and looked out the open window, trying to act nonchalant about the whole situation. “Alright.”

“Alright?” Maybe he'd agreed too soon. Too easily. Stiles' eyes snapped over to Derek, who seemed a little puzzled. Perhaps he should take it back. No, that would look silly. Stiles pressed his lips together and shivered as another breeze rolled over him.

“Yes, alright. As in sure, certainly, yes I'll do it. Can I go back to sleep now?” He started out by snapping, but ended with a tired exhale. He _had_ agreed too soon, and now he just wanted to deal with everything tomorrow. Even if he had a dastardly plan.

 

{ _break_ }

In the morning, things looked brighter (including his room which didn't have any lurking werewolves in it). He actually found it quite hilarious—he and _Derek_?—and why would his Grandmother assume that he was gay? Oh man, so many exploitable possibilities. He might have cackled like an evil villain and gotten the strangest look from his Dad over breakfast. He might deny that one, though, for the sake of seeming sane.

School was usual, up until the bell. No, he hadn't mentioned his plans to Scott (who was both trying to deny that he was actually sick and mooning over Allison), but he wanted to keep it all on the DL for now. So he trudged out toward his Jeep, a huge poster board in tow and his normal bag and Lacrosse bag hanging off of his shoulders and pulling him slightly off balance. He opened the back door, threw his stuff in, closed the door and turned toward the driver's seat only to see it.

Why were his fucking _tires_ slashed? Who the _fuck_ would do that to his baby? He got down there to run his fingers over the tears in the rubber. Okay, so not a regular knife then. Those were fucking claw marks. His immediate thought was Jackson, so he stood up, looking around for him while breathing out of his nose in attempts to calm his raging rage.

Then a car horn beeped behind him and he whipped around to see the Camaro parked, idling right across the way. His hands were balled into fists as he stalked over there, completely ready to tear the “Big Bad Alpha” a new one. Derek spoke before he could say anything though. “I already called a tow truck. Get your stuff, I'll take you home.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes, ready to fly off the handle, but stopped himself as he noticed the look on Derek's face. He had already fucking dismissed him. Like Stiles was going to do what he said without a fight. So Stiles just brought the good humour of the morning back up and tried his best not to stomp his way across the parking lot to grab his things. He tossed them in the backseat of the Camaro and made sure to slam the door closed once he got in. Derek drove off without a word, but Stiles was going to make certain that he paid dearly. No one hurt his baby and got away with it.

They were almost all the way to the house that Derek had been renting for a while now when he spoke up. “I told her that the rest of the pack didn't know yet.”

“So what—now we're going to be hosting a coming out party?”

Derek glanced sideways at him and he could tell that his surly attitude wasn't well received. It was _his_ fault, though, he wasn't the one who slashed somebody's tires with his _claws_. Fucking werewolves. “Don't be stupid, she said she wouldn't give them any reason to suspect.”

Stiles stared at him from his slouched position in the passenger's seat. Derek was actually embarrassed about all this. Ooooohhhhhh boy. Oh _man_ was Stiles going to have fun with this!

By the time they pulled into the driveway, Stiles had taken several deep breaths and tried not to be too hostile. He was here to make Derek regret all of this, after all. Then he popped out of the Camaro, bag over his shoulder, and met Derek at the door. A glance to the side told him that the Grandmother in question had pushed the curtains back and was glancing out with a pleasant smile on her face. Nervousness punched him in the gut. How was he supposed to do this?! His hand was shaking and he shoved it into his pants pocket. They could hear his heartbeat, he needed to settle down. A warm hand gripped the back of his neck and for a moment he tensed, expecting claws and a shove against the nearest available vertical surface, but it never came. Instead there was a brush of a very human thumb over his spine and a reassuring squeeze that made him relax slightly and look over at Derek.

“It's fine, I promise.” Whether that meant 'calm the fuck down before you give everything away' or he was just getting into character, Stiles was having a hard time deciphering. He just decided it was a threat to get sorted because that? That he could deal with. A couple of deep breaths later and he flashed a good natured, if a bit goofy grin at Derek and let his pseudo-boyfriend hold the door open for him. Then it was just like getting here for pack meetings and training. He kicked off his shoes and dumped his bag against the wall, trekking his way toward the kitchen for the inevitable snack that should be waiting inside. Derek was the best at having food ready for when they all got here. Maybe it was an Alpha thing, but Stiles suspected it was more of a Derek thing.

He got only a few paces toward the fridge, though, before Derek reached out and snagged him, changing his course toward the living room, where his Grandmother was standing with a friendly smile on her face and her hands clasped in front of her. Maybe it was the whole werewolf thing, but she didn't look or act all that old. Sure, her hair was silvery and she had some almost unnoticeable wrinkles, but otherwise she seemed to be rather athletic. If there was one thing that Stiles was sure of—it was that he didn't want to get on her bad side.

They had spoken yesterday, when the pack had been here to greet her. He'd been focused on asking questions exclusive to the werewolf topic, well, until Derek thought to drag him into the kitchen and argue with him over who had touched the wild blueberry and vanilla goat cheese. Apparently Lydia hadn't fessed up and was pointing the finger of blame at him, plus Derek had gotten it for his Grandmother. In the end it was all sorted, but all in all Stiles liked her. So he smiled and offered his hand to her, like his Dad had always taught him, but half-way extended he got the idea and refrained from smirking as he took up her hand and bowed slightly to kiss the back of it.

From the look Derek shot him when he straightened up he wouldn't be breathing anymore if he did that again, but it was well worth it.

{ _break_ }

He actually started to have fun after that. Laying it on thick with cuddling up to Derek on the couch and calling him all sorts of disgustingly sappy pet names. He was pretty sure that once he was done, Honeybuns was going to stick—the look of pure death that Derek shot at him for that one (behind his Grandmother's back of course) had almost made Stiles giggle because he'd been blushing too. It was just too rich. Except for after a couple days of this Stiles fell into a routine: wake up, go to school, get picked up by Derek (the explanation to the pack was his car was in the shop), spend the afternoon with Derek and his Grandmother (which wasn't so bad, he was learning loads about werewolves—even if some of the things he really felt he didn't need to know), even cooking them dinner and was brought back home by Derek after the sun had gone down.

The problem was that he was alright with this. He could go on living like that for a while and it wasn't just Derek's embarrassment that made him alright with it. He could just _see_ himself living out his days taking care of the Sour Wolf and making up more and more ridiculous sounding pet names for him just for entertainment value. That thought? That made him stall in his tracks, between where the Camaro was pulling away from the curb and the front door to his house and look around wildly like someone might have noticed the difference in him.

It helped that it was the weekend and he wasn't expected over at Derek's until later in the day. This day was routine, and a different one than the one he'd been following the past couple of days: wake up, do laundry, play video games, go with Allison and Scott or Jackson and Lydia (whoever picked him up) and go watch the werewolves train in Derek's secluded, but sunny back yard. This? This was okay. This was normal. This didn't threaten his already teetering on the edge sexuality (not that he'd had any sex to know for _sure_ , mind you).

And the day went as planned, too, except for Derek yanking him along behind him at break time to go “get snacks” from the kitchen. Sure, they were actually grabbing more chips and stuff, but Derek also threw another bombshell at him.

“She wants you to spend tonight here. She said she wants to cook you breakfast.” Now that wasn't creepy or anything. Not at all. Not that Stiles would mind the breakfast so much (his Grandmother was a charming lady and didn't seem into serving squirrels up for tea, so he figured it would be safe and edible), but staying at _Derek's_? Derek, meanwhile, was fluffing the chips in the bowl with enough force that he was crunching them up more than making the bowl look nice and full. Stiles reached out and smacked his hands away.

“You're breaking them.”

Stiles took a moment to fix it, so the broken chips lay on the bottom, his eyes sticking to just the bowl of chips as he figured out some way to get out of it. He turned, leaning back against the counter. “We could tell her that we aren't ready for that step in our relationship.”

“She was really adamant.” Derek must have pulled that word out of his ass. Stiles would have called him on it, but there were bigger concerns here. Like how to stay out of the Sour Wolf's bed.

He never thought he'd be concerned with such things.

Derek was leveling a look at him that either meant 'do this for me or I'll eat you' or possibly it meant 'come on, you can come up with a better excuse than that'. Stiles' gaze dropped to the floor as he thought. It snapped back up briefly, “We could tell her the truth?”

Derek growled, his teeth bared. Okay, so he was pretty _adamant_ that didn't happen. Got it. Stiles shrugged and turned back around, picking up the chip bowl. “There's always you ripping my arm off and having to go to the hospital for the entire night—though my Dad might kill you for that.”

That sounded a little desperate, but he was turned away from Derek now, so when the hand landed on his shoulder he thought he might have been taking him up on that offer and yelped loudly, dropping the bowl of chips on the ground. Derek's eyes were wide when he spun to meet them, like he was surprised by Stiles' reaction. Stiles immediately felt silly, but his heart was still hammering in his chest and the adrenaline was rushing through his system. There were footsteps on the porch and Derek's gaze snapped toward the door, his nostrils flaring as he scented, his feet already moving to crowd in on Stiles.

While Stiles was very much _not_ curious about what it was like to kiss Derek Hale, he didn't really get much of a choice in the matter. There was lips and tongue and he was pretty sure teeth had gotten in there too. It wasn't entirely pleasant, though, seeing as chips were crunching under his feet and the counter was digging into him. He would have to grade his first kiss as a seven out of ten—and only that high because hey, at least he had gotten kissed. He was pretty sure his heart was up in his ears though, all he could hear was it beating harshly, all the blood rushing around.

When Derek pulled back, whoever it was had gone and Stiles was pretty sure this is what being in shock felt like. Derek was still all up in his space and crunching chips on the floor, but Stiles took a moment to catch his breath before he ventured into the 'using his words' territory. And _no_ , that was not _his_ voice that was up an octave higher than normal. “That—that was your Grandmother, right? Because if that was Scott or Jackson or _Lydia_ —oh God Lydia—”

Derek had lifted a foot, gazing at the crushed chips with distaste, but his eyes darted back to Stiles with a bit of bewilderment and a lot of anger, if the red was anything to go by, and he answered. “Of course it was her. We're doing this for her.”

For one heart-stopping second Stiles believed he was talking about Lydia, but then the gears in his brain started turning and he nodded mutely, leaning as far back into the counter as possible, trying to put space between him and the Alpha who looked about ready to rip his lungs out. Derek's growl was almost indecipherable.

“You're staying the night.” Derek stooped down, grabbed the plastic bowl (Thank _God_ it was plastic and had bounced and not shattered), turned away and ripped open a bag of chips a little viciously, but at least he didn't use his claws. He was gone in a few moments, leaving Stiles rattled and dealing with a boner he wasn't sure how he'd gotten.

{ _break_ }

It was bad enough that when Stiles had finished cleaning up the chips from the floor he had gotten several odd looks from Scott and Lydia when he at last reappeared in the back yard. Allison just smiled at him, but she was a doll so he didn't put much stock in it. Jackson ignored him, as per usual. No one said anything, thank God, but the knowing looks that Derek's Grandmother kept giving both him and the Sour Wolf who was keeping his distance and grumbling a lot still set him on edge.

That night he waved off Scott, who had been waiting for him with Allison in order to give him a ride home, saying he'd grab one with Derek and he had a few more questions for his Grandmother. Scott didn't seem to like the idea, but after a little reassurance that Derek wasn't going to tear his face off and eat it (okay, Stiles wasn't so sure he wasn't going to), he let Allison drive off, back toward home. Stiles looked around, but Derek was washing dishes in the kitchen and he had no idea where his Grandmother went off to, so he sunk down onto the couch. He was half-hoping he'd disappear into the cushions and never ever be thought of again, but no such luck. Derek's Grandmother appeared out of nowhere and sat down next to him, a sympathetic smile on her lips and a comforting hand on his knee.

“He's always been so secretive about these things. He'll come around. He's just not big on public displays is all.”

He just wanted to boggle at her, to throw up his hands and just spill the beans. It was bad enough that he was questioning his dreams of marrying Lydia and having three little ones, a white picket fence and Lydia's lab coat hanging up in the hall—but the fact that she so blindly believed that he and _Derek_ were together and happy about it was... _preposterous_.

In the moment before he did it, his eyes found Derek, sullenly washing dishes and pretending not to overhear the conversation. He felt the gaze like it was a weight, though, and glanced up to meet Stiles' eyes. Maybe he saw the sadness, maybe he saw the loneliness, or hell—maybe it was just _Derek_ he saw there. But no matter what it was, he changed his mind and smiled softly at Derek's Grandmother. “Yeah, I get it.”

He cleared his throat after a moment and the conversation moved on.

It didn't get awkward until sleeping arrangements were being made and Derek still wasn't talking to him. Derek got up and walked out of the room—it took a few moments of sitting in silence for Stiles to realize that he was expected to follow. Derek's Grandmother had turned in already, so the house was dim and quiet. Kind of like when Stiles would get in late on full moon nights and find his Dad already asleep. He trudged into Derek's bedroom (which he'd never seen before this, but that was so far off the point it's not even really relevant), noting that the open door meant that he wasn't _unwelcome_. Derek was just pulling off his shirt and Stiles had an awkward moment where he shifted not-so-subtly and looked away. Derek seemed to ignore him and continue getting ready for bed. Stiles wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to be doing, so he just stood there, trying not to stare at Derek like a creepy stalker. Derek was in bed before he spoke to him. “I won't bite.”

Stiles jerked his head up and searched Derek's face to see if he was being sarcastic or not. Stiles took a stumbling step forward and regretfully stripped his shirt off (it wasn't that he hadn't been shirtless in front of Derek before, but this time was _different_ ), went to sit on the edge of the bed but aborted and stared dumbly at Derek. “I don't have any clothes to sleep in.”

“Second drawer down.”

Like he was a robot or something, he moved stiffly around the bed and opened the drawer, pulling out the first pair that he found. He changed, trying to be as quick about it as he could. Stiles was trying to make the drawstrings at the waist a little tighter so they would actually stay up when Derek started talking softly. He was staring at the wall with an intense focus, like he was trying not to look at Stiles while he spoke. “You're right.”

First of all—what had happened to the Derek Hale he knew? Secondly, what was he right about? He would have joked about getting this recorded, but he didn't think that his joke would be well received. “What?”

Derek's eyes darted over to him, and then flitted back to the wall. “We should— _I_ should tell her,” He paused, “The truth.”

Stiles walked around the edge of the bed and sat down on what had been deemed 'his side'. He turned sharply and narrowed his eyes at Derek, like he was trying to figure out a particularly difficult puzzle. “I just got on board and you're abandoning ship? Seriously?”

Derek opened his mouth with some retort that Stiles surely wasn't going to listen to, so he just continued, talking over whatever Derek might have started to say. “I mean, hey, it's up to you but...” He took a mighty big breath that might well be his last one _ever_ , “But this could work.”

Silence hung heavily between them, Derek studying him and Stiles avoiding that side of the room like it had the plague. Which it did. The Bubonic Derek.

That almost made him smile.

The fingers on the back of his neck made him jump, but the look Derek was wearing was so open and vulnerable that Stiles couldn't have said no to anything, even if he wanted to. Derek's hand curled around the place where his neck met his shoulder and tugged gently, pulling Stiles toward him. Stiles let it happen, not really sure what was going on even when his head was tucked under Derek's and a pair of strong arms were holding him in place. It took a little while, but Derek's voice was rough when he spoke. “Just no calling me Honeybuns, okay?”

_That_ made Stiles smile.

{ _break_ }

Stiles woke up groggy and hotter than Hades. He kicked the blankets off his feet and groaned, trying to roll over onto his back, but the arms banded around him and the body spooning his didn't let him get far. He yawned, trying to find the energy to have a good old fashioned freak out, but it just wasn't coming to him, so he gave up pretty quickly. That probably should have seemed weird to him, but he just rolled with it. So instead he just nudged Derek in the chest with his elbow and spoke sleepily. “Hey, Hulkster, mind letting up a little?”

The response he got was a tightening of the arms around him and Stiles was willing to bet that Derek was doing it on purpose. He got an arm loose and reached around to flick Derek on the ear. “Oi!”

That earned him a rather sharp nip that he really should have expected on the back of his neck. He scowled and counted to five. Derek finally released him and he rolled away, landing awkwardly on his feet and pulling himself up straight. Derek was gazing at him sleepily like he was crazy. “What time is it?”

“Seven o'clock. Come on.” Stiles had been getting up at seven am since practically the dawn of time. He'd always been a morning person. Well, not true, he usually sprung out of bed and stayed hyperactive throughout the day, crash landed in a bed and slept like the dead. It worked for him. Derek took his time, though, so it was more like seven-thirty when they meandered out of the bedroom. Derek's Grandmother greeted them with a smile and the smell of bacon, eggs and coffee.

“Was this your first time staying over, dearie?” Her question was directed at Stiles once they were all sitting around eating the breakfast that Stiles had insisted he help with. Derek seemed to be a grouch in the morning, but he was beginning to perk up a bit now that he'd drained nearly a pot of coffee by himself. Stiles froze, not sure how to answer that one. He was inventive. He was cunning. He could find a way not to lie. “Well I still have school and my Dad doesn't actually know, so...”

All the truth. Stiles had called his Dad after the dropped bombshell and told him he was staying over at Scott's last night, so he was very much _not_ in the know. Because he certainly wouldn't approve. He already didn't approve of hanging out over here, he was sure there was something illegal going on. She just nodded and smiled kindly. “I figured as much.”

After that Derek seemed to be awake enough to hold his own in conversation and steered the topic elsewhere. Stiles was glad that his heart didn't start beating faster or anything silly like that. He'd gotten away clean. Well, except for having caught the Bubonic Derek. He listened to Derek as he talked with his Grandmother and ate his breakfast.

How the hell was he going to explain this to Scott?

How the hell was he going to explain this to his _Dad_?

{ _break_ }

Derek made an excuse for him to go home and do his homework (which included a big poster board project for a book he hadn't even started reading yet). So he was dropped off with a _totally_ awkward kiss on the cheek and a 'see you later Sour Wolf' that earned him a look that probably would have made him quake in his shoes if not for the fact that he'd just spent the night _cuddling_ with him and didn't get eaten. So the rest of Sunday was spent reading the book he needed to, making his Dad lunch and bringing it to him at the Station and chickening out of telling him about _anything_ , then going back home and finishing up his homework.

All in all, it wasn't too bad. Stiles had much worse weekends in the past and shouldn't that bother him, that this didn't make that list? Shouldn't pretending to be gay and Derek Hale's boyfriend rank as one of the top three things of Not To Do In My Life?

But wait. He was sort of gay, wasn't he? Well okay, there was Lydia and only someone _blind_ could say that Allison wasn't beautiful (and even _then_...), but he'd also hero-worshiped Jackson at first, until he found out he was a dick, fostered a crush on Danny for a few years before he'd chosen to stick with Lydia (it was _easier_ that way) and more to the point he was pretty sure his Dad knew about all of that stuff. So really he was a _bit_ gay.

As for Derek? Stiles pointedly didn't think about that. He finished up his poster and thought about adding glitter. He decided that while _he_ might be gay, his poster didn't need to be.

He got a text that night that made him choke on the pizza his Dad had ordered for dinner. The Sheriff looked alarmed and thumped him on the back, making sure his son didn't Die By Pizza.

Maybe he shouldn't have told Derek to get a phone. Maybe him texting was a horrible idea.

He had to wait until after school on Monday (and thank God his Jeep was back from the shop), when he drove over to Derek's, stomped in, grabbed hold of his arm and basically dragged him outside with only an apologetic, tight smile in his Grandmother's direction. And really, he was sorry because this? This thing on his phone? This was not alright. Derek was unconcerned and let Stiles push him up against the Jeep while he brought the text up on his phone. He practically shoved it into Derek's face.

“What exactly is this?”

“That's a text. From me.”

It blew Stiles' mind. Really, it did. “No. No, no, no. This here? This is what you call a _sext_.”

He paused; this wasn't getting through to him, was it? He shifted on his feet and frowned before figuring it out. “Okay, let me put it this way: my Dad sees this and you go to jail,” He gestured wildly with his hands, “Probably just on the principle of you _sexted the Sheriff's teenage son_.”

Derek crossed his arms over his chest and looked a bit reproachful. “But you didn't show him, did you?”

Stiles deflated. “Of course not.”

They fell quiet and Stiles put his phone back in his pocket, kicking a pebble against the tire of his Jeep before he looked back up. “Were you serious?”

Derek's answering grin was rather feral and would have made Stiles run for his life normally. “Deadly.”

Stiles ran a hand over his buzz cut and looked everywhere but at Derek. Derek reached out and tugged him forward, making Stiles lean somewhat uncomfortably against him. The topic changed again and Derek spoke low into his ear. “Scott's not an idiot, you know. And Lydia? She's bound to figure it out quicker than he will.”

Stiles didn't like where this was headed. Solidifying this? What was this, even? How could he explain this? Let alone be okay with it?

Why _was_ he so okay with it? Why was it so comfortable to just fall into this? To make up stupidly sappy pet names to irritate Derek and cook for him and cuddle in front of his _Grandmother_?

He tilted his head and dug his chin into Derek's shoulder and sighed. “This is going to be a disaster.”

Derek took a moment to say something, “Do want it to stop? It still can.”

Stiles' eyebrows drew together and he leaned back, looking into Derek's eyes. A wry smile slipped onto his face and he shook his head. “No. No, I think I like having the Bubonic Derek.”

Derek gave him the strangest look then, but just shook his head and pulled him close again.


End file.
